


Swing 'Round Again

by Solrika



Series: McGenji Week 2016 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotions, Kissing, M/M, McGenji Week, Post-Recall, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:18:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrika/pseuds/Solrika
Summary: Day Four of McGenji Week--Reunions.It's been a long, long time.





	

They end up meeting in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere, and Jesse only starts a little bit when Genji _fucking_ Shimada sashays in like the “no clankers” sign doesn’t even exist. The omnic floating besides him looks properly cautious, but Genji--well. There was a time when he would be spitting bitterness and any proof of humanity possible, walking into a place like this, but now all that’s readable on that blank visor is something a little like peace, a little like danger.

Jesse shakes his head, finishes up his beer in one long pull. He’s always been able to spot trouble, and it’s just walked in with a sword strapped to its back.

“You’re a hard man to find, Jesse McCree,” Genji says, and Jesse rolls his eyes. 

“From anyone else, that’d be th’ truth,” he says, setting down his empty glass. “From you--we both know all y’had t’ do was start lookin’, and you’d find me.”

Genji shrugs a shoulder, sweeps a hand towards the door. He looks as if the past years haven’t happened, as if it’s only Jesse that feels that damnable heartache. “Do you have time for a stroll?”

“Depends.” Jesse toys with his glass, and ruthlessly stamps the desire to go running straight into the cyborg’s arms. He’s got standards, dammit, and he refuses to give Genji a romance-novel ending when Reyes died and the little fucker didn’t even give Jesse a call before running off into the world. “What d’ya want?” 

“To talk,” Genji says, as if that explains anything. 

Because he’s a damn fool, Jesse says, “Fine,” and stands, wishing he still had some beer left so he could down the glass a second time. Genji tilts his head in a way that’s probably a smile, and leads the way to the door. The omnic accompanying him shoots Jesse curious glances the whole way, and when they step onto the street Jesse’s glad for the excuse to turn up his collar. 

Genji leads them away from the bar. They walk, winding their way through the streets. Genji’s systems are running calm and silent, and there’s nothing to give away what he’s thinking, even when Jesse really, really looks. The unfamiliar omnic is the same, fingers serenely folded in its lap. Neither of them say anything.

Fnally Jesse breaks. “So what'd you wanna talk about?”

“Winston instituted a recall,” Genji says. Stops, sways on the balls of his feet, and finally Jesse can read something a little more uncertain than that infuriating calm.  “But we can discuss that later.”

Jesse snorts, feels in his pocket for a cigarette. “And what’ll we discus right now, huh?” 

Genji watches him light the cigarette, put it in his mouth, blow out a plume of smoke before murmuring, “I may not have been fair to you, all those years ago.”

That prompts a snort from Jesse. “No shit.” He has to bite his tongue to keep the “sweetheart” from following, swallows, and adds, “If we’re gonna discuss this, I don’t need the extra ears.” Turning to the omnic, he looks the scrawny little creature over. Says, “If you’re not the new boyfriend, I’d ‘preciate if you found somewhere else t’go, _friend_ ,” and doesn’t mind how rude it sounds.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Genji says, “Zenyatta. If you don’t mind.” 

The omnic inclines its head. Jesse has the oddest sensation that it’s laughing at them both as it drifts off. 

They wait until it’s out of sight, and then Jesse says, “Let’s have it.” 

Genji folds his hands behind his back, straightens his shoulders. It’s one of his nervous tells, and if Jesse knows him--and maybe he doesn’t anymore, and ain’t that a sobering thought--it’s a deliberate thing that Jesse’s being shown it at all. Genji still trusts him. 

“You deserve an apology,” Genji says, and Jesse can’t help whistling in surprise at hearing that proud voice admit it. Genji sways on his heels--another tell--and continues, “I should have given you a--a cleaner break, at the very least, and a kinder one, than leaving without warning. No matter how grief-stricken, no matter how hurt, no matter how damaged--I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.” 

Genji steps forwards, almost into Jesse’s space. His heart hurts without his permission, aches to reach out and pull Genji in across the years and the fourteen inches separating them. He stands firm. Listens as Genji says, “You owe me no debt, no expectations. But I would--” he swallows, twists his hands together until the joints squeal and Jesse almost reaches forwards to stop him, “I’d appreciate it if you gave me another chance.”

It should sound stiff. Rehearsed. It doesn’t. Genji’s always had a gift with words.

Jesse takes another pull of his cigarette, and mumbles, “We don’t have Gabe t’ be our counselor anymore. Y’really think tryin’ again’s the best idea?”

Genji takes another step forwards. He’s getting easier and easier to read as the distance closes. There’s the low hum of fans, the way he twists his hands together, that tilt of his head--Jesse breathes around the smoke and the force of Genji’s hope and fear. 

“I’m better now,” Genji says, almost pleading.

“I’m worse,” Jesse warns.

“We’re stronger together.”

“We’re a goddamned forest fire.”

“There’s a tree called the sequoia.” Genji’s close enough to kiss. If he were to take a deep breath, their chests would brush. “Do you know it?”

Jesse closes his eyes in resignation. “Yeah.” It feels more like a relief than it should. “Yeah, I do.” He can see the green glow of Genji’s visor even through his eyelids. He wonders if it’s really the same shade, or if it’s just his eyes playing tricks. “Needs the fire to spread its seeds.” 

Careful, gentle fingers on Jesse’s hand, winding them together. It’s been years, but the slick feeling of Genji’s armor and the soft drag of his palms are still familiar. 

Jesse opens his eyes, stares hard down at Genji’s visor, tries to see past it. “We gotta work at it,” he says, voice ragged. “Okay? It can’t be like before, we gotta really try. We gotta both be adults.” 

 Genji sways forwards, and there’s that little click as his facemask finally splits open. His face is a little older, a little harder--there’s new lines under his eyes--but it’s still achingly sweet and hopeful. “For you, Jesse--for you, of course.”

“I mean it,” Jesse says, and he’s clutching Genji’s hand like a lifeline. “You can’t do that again t’me. You can’t. You can’t--I thought you were fuckin’ dead for the first year! You and Gabe both--” He chokes on the unbidden sob.

Genji croons in concern, stretching up on tiptoe to press their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. I’m so, so sorry.”

“We gotta be better this time,” Jesse tells him, harsh and wet. “Promise me.”

Genji’s dark eyes are solemn. “I promise,” he murmurs.

Lord help him, Jesse believes him. Chokes on another sob, crashes their mouths together, and Genji makes a small surprised noise that just about breaks Jesse in half with longing. Suddenly frantic, he’s pulling the cyborg closer, dropping kisses wherever he can reach. “I missed you,” he gasps out, “God, I missed you so fuckin’ much, I hate how much I missed you--”

Genji always gave as good as he gets, and when he bites into the kiss, it feels like Jesse’s finally come home. “I’m not leaving you again,” Genji promises, soft and fierce with the afterimage of scales around his eyes, and seals it with hands fisted in Jesse’s coat and a kiss as hungry as the dragon in his soul. 


End file.
